Gaijin
by Dark Phoenix Rising
Summary: Rewrite of the WHAT IF: WOLVERINE FATHER comic. What if Logan had raised his son Daken? How do you raise a biracial child in a post-war country that loathes them and can you protect your son against a demon from your past? R&R please. Beta up APR 27


Author's note: This is a prompt fill that I wrote for a community at Livejournal. It's based in the comicverse, even though I usually write for movie verse.

Please leave a review after reading!

Pairings: Logan/Jean, mentioning of Cyclops/Jean, Daken/Northstar, mentioning of Daken/Bullseye, Daken/Johnny, Daken/Romulus

Rated M for violence, traumatic experiences, language, child abuse

The characters belong to Marvel and their creators.

**Betaed-version (4/27/11)**

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><p><strong>Words:<strong>

Gaijin: foreigner

Oi: Hey

Tadaima: I'm back (home)

Okaeri nasai: welcome back

Otousan: father

Quod sum eris: I am what you will be

Yukata: a summer kimono

Watashi no hon: my book

Hai: yes

Oyasumi (nasai): Good night

Doubutsu: animal

Kaibutsu: monster

Daken: mongrel, bastard dog

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><p><strong>Gaijin<strong>

_Jasmine Falls, Japan, Autumn 1946…_

He looked down at the bloody, shriveled and wailing thing in his hands that looked so fragile that he was afraid to even move. His ears rang of the cries. Blood and things he didn't even want to think about or name were dripping off his hands and he felt like in trance, as he looked at the tiny body in his hands that was uttering loud protests after it had been forced out of his haven.

Finally waking up from his trance, Logan grabbed the first thing he could find and wrapped the baby into an old blanket. He didn't dare to look back at his wife, at her cooling body or at the pool of blood that surrounded her. Instead, he was mesmerized with that tiny being in his hands about which he had no clue at all. How was he supposed to care for a baby? He had no idea what a child needed, what being a child felt like. Since the cries died slowly down he guessed that he had done something right. Still, he couldn't stay here. After what had happened during the test of worthiness no one would believe him that he hadn't murdered Itsu… To them he was nothing more than an animal with claws…

Carefully, he laid the baby onto the ground to change his own clothes, grabbed the most important things and put them into his duffle bag. As he reached for some old clothes and blankets, his eyes looked back at the bundle on the ground. Maybe it was better to leave the child behind? Whoever murdered Itsu was after him, whoever did it must be thinking the baby was dead, too. That way his child could be safe. But what if they came looking for him and found the child? It was helpless. And it was his in the end…

He had to leave… And that fast. But where was he supposed to go? After Japan had surrendered it was occupied by foreign powers and he couldn't risk being recognized by anyone form the US army. It was already bad enough that they knew where he was now. He couldn't risk being seen or detected by them again. So the only option he had was either to leave the country or to keep on moving from place to place constantly…

After he had packed up everything, he pulled the baby back up and put it between his warm chest and his jacket to keep it warm. He felt so confused that he couldn't even remember what it was. Was it a boy? A girl? With a last look at his dead wife, he was out of the door and gone…

* * *

><p><em>9 years later…<em>

"Gaijin da! Gaijin da!" three boys shouted behind him and he clenched his fists in anger but remembered what his father had taught him: keep the anger in, don't lash out, ignore their stupidity. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth as a snowball hit the back of his head next; the coldness seeping through his clothes. He hated it, hated them, hated life here in Sendai, Miyagi, hated life in Japan, hated life…

"Oi, Daken!" one of them barked next and he felt as if the eyes of every person on the street were on him. Who was he kidding? They _were_ on him. People shoved their pure-Japanese children out of his way, afraid he could infect them with his non-Japanese genes or his biracial looks.

He hated them…

He had barely taken the next turn as another, much harder snowball hit him again, another one as he turned around to look at whoever had thrown it. They were laughing and pointing their fingers at him while he was boiling within; angry tears stung in his eyes and he wished they would just drop dead. That all of them would just drop dead… He grabbed his school bag that had fallen to the ground and ran the last few meters to his _home_. Still angry, he carelessly dropped his shoes at the entrance and ran straight to his room. His father wasn't home, yet, still at work or God knows where. He didn't care. He already knew what his father would tell him anyway: that they were wrong, that he was no mongrel and as much worth as they were. Who was he kidding? He only had to look into the next mirror and there it was, his not so pure Japanese face, his much lighter eyes compared to all the other children and adults around them, his darker skin tone… He was not Japanese, but he was not Canadian either, he was nothing. He turned his head towards the door as he heard how the front door was being closed. Counting from ten backwards, he waited for his room door to open and it did as he had reached zero.

"Tadaima," his father said, scrutinizing him and probably wondering why his clothes were soaked.

"Okaerinasai, otousan…," he mumbled without looking back at him. As soon as he would look up his father would look away anyway. He always did…

"I brought dinner. Ya comin'?" Logan asked in English and was gone again, leaving him to change into dry clothes and slowly following. Rice, chicken, some Miso soup that didn't even taste good. He guessed his father had gotten it from that seedy small restaurant down the street that he didn't like. "How was yer day?" he heard him asking and wanted to smash the bowl in front of him.

"Good…," he lied. It's what he always said. He doubted his father would care that every day to him was like hell the moment he left the house. How could his father be so blind? How could he still live in that illusion that this was their _home_?

Logan only nodded and went back to eating this awful food.

When he lay in bed and looked outside of the window he already dreaded thinking about getting to school later. Maybe he could take the path through the wood this time even though his father told him not to? Everything was better than being stared at, than being labeled one of those post-war children that had been conceived because a poor woman had been raped by the bad American soldier, that he was lucky that his gaijin-father at least took him in. He wondered if this was true? If he was one of those… He knew his father kept a picture of his mother hidden in one of those trashy books he liked to read. One day, when he had been home early he had sneaked into his father's bedroom and taken a look at the picture. His heart had pounded widely in his chest as he had to realize just how much he looked like her. Now he knew why his father looked down or away the moment he met his eyes. He had become accustomed to not looking up at his father, to keep his eyes downcast. She must have been young, he had thought. At least she had looked barely 19 to him. But oh so beautiful... When he had heard his father returning, he had quickly put the picture away again and had run out of the room. But who was he kidding? His father must have noticed because on the next morning, the picture lay on the small table next to his bed…

"Oi, Daken!" he heard the same group calling after him the moment he had reached the school grounds. He went straight to class and sat down on his stool, which was all the way in the back, away from the real Japanese children that deserved going to school. To them it didn't even matter that he was intelligent, that he understood things way quicker than the others, that he could think ahead. To them he was the mongrel that didn't even deserve to learn about their culture and history, even less to be in the same room with them. He wondered what his father had to do in order for being allowed to send his mongrel-child to this school. So he sat through the lessons, day after day, ignored by everyone and waited that he could run home again. He would definitely take the way back through the woods this time…

As he was sitting at the frozen lake later, his clothes wet and dirty once more, he stared ahead and was completely oblivious to his surroundings. His vivid mind was once more imagining what life would be like, if he were a pure Japanese boy. He would be loved by others for his already obvious good looks, for his athletic abilities and his smart mind. He would have had friends that loved being with him, that laughed about his jokes and not about him… He would have been loved by them…

"Why so sad?" a deep voice suddenly asked behind him and nearly made him jump out of his skin in surprise.

He looked at the huge and muscular man with the strange hair and even stranger coat. He was not Japanese, rather looked American to him. And that smile…

"You shouldn't let your guard down like that, my boy. You never know who might be standing behind you," the strange man smiled and nodded at the empty spot next to him. "May I?"

He pulled his legs closer the moment the man sat down and kept his eyes downcast. His father had always told him not to come here, not to talk to strangers, especially never American looking ones…

"What happened to you, boy? Your clothes are all dirty and wet," the man asked, his voice deep but soft, almost calming. He chuckled amused as he didn't receive any reply. "You don't need to be afraid of me, you know? I won't hurt you," he added and made him actually look up for the first time. "Was it those boys again that always tease you?"

How come he knew? "How…?"

"Well they are loud enough, aren't they? What does your father say about it?"

"He… He doesn't know…," he mumbled and hugged his legs again, eyes downcast once more.

"Hm… That surprises me, you know…?" the strange man said and sighed. "I actually saw him on the opposite side of the street in that seedy restaurant and he was watching you. I'm surprised he didn't say a word… A father should protect his child."

His father knew? Wide-eyed he looked up and met the stranger's gaze. He was at a loss of words. This time, he didn't even startle or back off as the man leant forward a bit.

"Never let anyone tease you or tell you that you are not worth it. You are far more special than those around you, my boy! Far more than they will ever understand," he told him and reached into his coat to pull a book out of it.

He took it and tried to read the title. "I…don't know that language, mister…"

The man smiled and rose. "Then you will teach yourself. In the end, you are smart enough, aren't you, my boy? Read the book. I'll expect you to understand it the next time we'll meet."

He watched the strange man turning around and heading back into the darkness. "Mister? Who are you, if I may ask?" he called after him and felt his heart leaping as the man glanced at him for the last time.

"Quod sum eris," the man said and disappeared, leaving him to stare at the empty space next to him first and at the book with the weird, foreign signs next.

This time, he didn't wait until he could hear his father walking up towards their house. This time, he ran, impatient to find out what the book was about…

Winter turned into spring and that again into summer. The teasing and beating didn't stop but he was too engrossed in the study of this new language and the book anyway. Every day he went to this spot at the lake right after school, studying, trying to figure out that language. After he had finally managed to do so he spent his time on reading the book over and over again. But who was he kidding? He could have done it at home, anywhere, there was no need to return to that spot over and over again. He was waiting for _him_, wanted to see _him_ again…

It wasn't before his tenth birthday that his life was once more about to be turned upside down…

He was wearing a dark blue yukata, his legs dangling in the water, the sun shining down on his tanned skin, as he heard movement behind him and jerked his head aside. That smile…

"I see you learned your lesson," the strange man nodded in appreciation and sat down next to him, eyes gleaming as he saw the book the boy was reading. "And I see you've been busy studying."

"Yes, sir," he nodded, smiling proudly and gently stroked over the page he was currently reading. "I read it about eight times by now."

"That's good to hear, my boy, but did you also understand the meaning of it?"

He frowned. "Of course, sir," he said and received a smile.

"Tell me!"

"It's about the great Greek warriors that fought against their oppressors with all their might. They used their cunning to lead them into a trap to make up for being a minority in battle," he told him and the fact that the man was nodding made him believe he had gotten it right.

"Good, but _why_ did I want you to read it? Did you find out about this, too?" he was asked and had to think about this for a moment.

"Maybe…because I am like the Greek warriors?" he asked. Once more a nod. "But I don't have an army to fight against my oppressors…," he mumbled and made the man laugh.

"My dear boy," the stranger said and put a large hand on his shoulder, the spot instantly feeling too hot. "You've got everything you need to put them into their place!"

This confused him. "I do?" he asked, wondering what else his father hadn't told him. He had always felt different after all. Had always known that he wasn't quiet…normal. Or was everyone able to hear noises from miles away and smell better than a dog?

"Yes, you do. You and me, we are special. We are predators and those oppressing you are your prey!" he was told and cocked an eyebrow at the man. "Did you never ask yourself why you never get sick? Why you heal quickly when you fall? Why you can see, hear and smell better than normal human beings?" The man was smiling again, but this time there was something weird in his eyes. "Did you…never notice that when you feel angry or sad that people around you feel the same?"

"Yes…"

"You are special, Akihiro," the stranger replied and caressed his cheek, making him forget that the man shouldn't know his name at all. "You are the top of the food chain and your oppressors are mere insects. And it's time that they learn their lesson and are put into their place!"

He nodded, unable to take his eyes off the man. "Yes… But how?"

"I'll teach you. We'll meet here every day after school. But in order for me to teach you, I expect something from you!"

"Which is?"

"You will call me master and you will be loyal to me without exception. Understood?" the stranger asked and he was just too willing to nod.

When he was about to go to bed later he froze at the door as he found his father in his room, the book in his hand. "Where did ya get this?" Logan asked, confused not only about his son being in possession of that book but also about the fact that it was written in Greek. His son wasn't even able to get rid of his Japanese accent while speaking English…

"Watashi no hon, otousan," he replied truthfully and went to bed, receiving an odd look and frown only. "It's Greek."

"Ya don't understand Greek, son!" Logan said and dropped the book again.

"Hai…," was all he said and watched his father heading for the door.

"Oyasumi," his father mumbled, still looking at him in a weird way. A look that he usually only received from strangers.

"Oyasumi nasai, otousan," he said and watched the door being closed. It was then that he began to wonder if his father was afraid of him…

As he had promised he came to the lake every day after school for his training. He learned control, learned about his origin and what he truly was, learned about everything that his father had never told him about, learned what a mutant was and that he was indeed special. Far more special than any of those children that kept on treating him like a nasty disease. He learned that his master's name was Romulus and that he was around for quiet a while already, that he had watched over him since his father had left the old village in Jasmine Falls behind, had learned the truth about his mother's death…

"Your father and she had a fight," Romulus had told him one day after they'd been done with his training and he had finally managed to control his pheromones the right way. "You see, your father isn't like you. He lacks control and you know how important it is to keep the berserker down, don't you?" He had nodded. "Otherwise you'll get blinded by rage and you'll get sloppy!"

"Yes, master!"

"Anyway, he lost control and lashed out. Killed her in one blow. He just left then and went his way, not caring about you still being inside of her. So I came and rescued you. Nevertheless…" Romulus sighed dramatically, "I had to leave you with him after I managed to track him down. The other couples I asked didn't want to take you in and at that time I couldn't care for you either. I had to leave you with him, unfortunately…"

He had clenched his fists in anger but reminded himself to keep the berserker down. "So my father never wanted me?"

"No, my boy. He never wanted you. He hated the idea of your existence. He feared what you would become."

He had believed him. Why shouldn't he? In the end, he was the first one to actually bother spending time with him, to sit down next to him without being afraid of catching something, to tell him the truth about what he was…

Nothing had been the same from then on. He had drifted even further away from his father. It wasn't as if they had ever been close from the start. Sometimes he still wondered how his father had actually managed to raise him up to now without accidentally poisoning him or killing him. And those children… He endured their teasing and beating but not without planning ahead. He would have his revenge on them. Sooner or later it would come and he would come out on top. He already had fun manipulating them in class, making them feel angry or sad for no obvious reason, embarrassing them in front of their teacher by making them feel aroused. At least one good thing that came with growing up…

It wasn't before winter had come again that things were completely falling apart. After reaching school he had found himself surrounding by several of his oppressors. Obviously, someone had stolen a bracelet and, of course, who else besides him could it be? After they had thrown one insult after the next at him, furious that he was merely smirking back, they had jumped him and were beating the crap out of him. Forgetting what he had learned after two ribs had cracked, he saw red and fought back, punching and kicking everything in his way, lashing out at whoever was pulling him away from the boy that was trying to protect himself on the cold ground.

But he didn't know where all the blood was suddenly coming from, nor why some were shouting _doubutsu _and _kaibutsu_ at him, pointing their fingers at him, running away screaming at the top of their lungs… It wasn't before he looked at the hand he had lashed out with and noticed the three, long and sharp claws sticking out of it. What kind of thing was he? His eyes looked to his right where his teacher lay in a pool of blood, dead, gutted by him. Not thinking twice, he ran away as fast as he could.

When Logan got to know about what had happened he was more shocked about his son being missing than anything else. All of a sudden he had to face what he had learned to ignore through all those years. His son hadn't been happy, he had been far from fine. When he met up with some teachers in his son's classroom and noticed the single table in the far back, right in the corner at the last window, he didn't need to ask who was sitting there. He knew. He ignored the angry words, the hateful words that were thrown at him, wondered instead what kind of hell his son had faced every day that he had gone to school. Why had he never noticed? How blind had he been? Where was his boy now?

Back home, he went straight for his son's room but found it empty. His things were untouched but the strange Greek book and the picture of Itsu were missing. So his son must have been home. But why was there no scent? Even if it was stupid, he left a note that told his boy he went looking for him, that he should wait for his return in case he came home. But Logan was no fool. His son wouldn't come home anymore… All he could hope for was that _they_ hadn't gotten their hands on his boy. That he wouldn't find him in pieces in some dumpster…

* * *

><p><em>Years later…<em>

"Tell, me Daken…," Romulus asked him while he was still trying to catch his breath underneath him and waited for the scratches and cuts on his bare body to heal. "Why do you still stick to that way of writing your name?" He held up a sketch book that Daken had been drawing in, the left corner clearly reading 秋寛. "Being sentimental?" he mocked him and dropped the book on the floor, finally pulling out of him and getting out of bed.

"It's a habit, master…," Daken replied and used the sheets to wipe himself clean.

"It's not that I am angry with you sticking to your old name, my boy," Romulus said and scribbled something on a paper. "But why not writing Akihiro as it should be written?" he asked and held the paper up for him to see. 大畠.

"Large glory?" he asked and liked the sound of it.

"Or are you so fond of being called a _generous autumn_?" Romulus mocked him again.

"Of course not, master. I won't use it again," he replied and decided to stick to it from now on.

He hadn't seen his father in decades, only heard of his whereabouts during the 70's, 80's and 90's. Romulus had told him about the Weapon X project, how his father had subjected to it and that he was a fool, a weak fool that had no dignity at all. Daken had agreed. He felt good next to Romulus' side, felt powerful next to him, learned more from the man that he would have ever learned from his father. To him Romulus was more of a father than Logan had ever been. Romulus had opened his eyes and taught him his greatness and purpose in life.

After he had returned from his military training he had begged his master to allow him to return to Japan.

"But what would you want there, my boy?" Romulus had asked him but the demonic smile was enough of an answer. He had smirked in deep satisfaction as a mysterious murder of several students and teachers that had all went to the same school in the Miyagi prefecture in 1956 occurred. According to the report the men and women had ended up gutted like animals, which made the police believe that the murderer was extremely brutal and sadistic. When Daken had returned, he showed him just how proud he was of him.

As he got to know that his father had joined Charles Xavier's group of spandex-men he wanted to puke. His old man was obviously not pathetic enough already. No, he had to play the hero now and show his spandex cladded ass around. It made him angry. Ashamed, not so much. Just furious that he and this pathetic old man shared the same blood. It made him sick. And some people took a sadistic pleasure out of teasing him with exactly that.

"So, what does it feel like to have a hero-daddy walking around in tight spandex?" Lester asked and if his smile had gotten any wider, he could have eaten a banana crossways.

"I don't know, Lester. But let me ask you something, too. What does it feel like to have daddy's dick up your ass and loving it?" he snarled back and ducked before the fork would have ended up in his left eye.

He had no idea how they had ended up fucking each other against the next wall, but the trail of blood and cum was enough evidence of their brawl.

"I hate you, you prissy little princess!" Lester had barked at him after they had gathered the last remains of their shredded clothes and had punched him square into his face before he had left. His nose had broken, but who cared if you possess a healing factor? The fucking continued anyway and he just wished his father could see him like this. He would be devastated and maybe, just maybe Daken could drive him as far as committing seppuku out of shame… He would even help him cutting his head off…

It wasn't before March 2007 that he finally ran into his father by accident. Oh, how he wished he had a camera to snap a picture of his old man's stupid face as he recognized him. Lester and Mac were still occupied with this Cyclops guy, who seemed to have a stick as large as the Eiffel Tower up his ass, and this Colossus. That Phoenix woman was throwing his darling Karla around and he was here, in the middle of the battle, staring back at his father who gave him the most pathetic look he had ever seen. He was waiting for him to start bawling like a child…

"Akihiro…," Logan stuttered and thought he was dreaming. His boy, all grown up, healthy, alive, in front of him. He had spent months looking for him all over Japan, had unconsciously been searching for him in every city and country he had ended up in. But his boy had been gone. As if he had never existed. What was up with this weird hair of his?

"Logan…," Daken spat and had aimed for as much disgust as he could come up with. God, could his father just finally kill himself. He couldn't endure this pathetic look…

"Yer alive…"

"Obviously… And you, too, unfortunately…," he replied and looked aside to see what his group was doing. That Cyclops prick better not hurt his Lester or he would have hell to pay… Was Mac just gnawing on Colossus' steel arm? His head jerked back into Logan's direction as this one finally dared to come closer.

"But where have ya been?" his father asked and he wanted to puke.

"God, you are so pathetic!" Daken spat and crossed his arms, frowned as this Phoenix woman landed next to Wolverine and gave him a curious look. She was reeking of him and it made him furious. "Is she your new bitch?" he wanted to ask but gritted his teeth instead. Control. Don't you ever forget that! With a last glare at him, he turned to join Lester and Mac, the latter carrying Karla.

"Wait! Come with us!" he heard Logan calling after him, his old man ignoring the strange looks he was getting from his team.

Daken huffed arrogantly and ran a hand through his carefully styled mohawk. "With you? Why would I ever do something stupid like that?" he asked and smirked at that Cyclops guy, who was also reeking of that Phoenix woman. "Tell me, Logan," he smirked and knew he was going to enjoy this. "Are you into threesomes much or does he not know that you are fucking the redhead?" Bingo. That Cyclops-guy's face fell instantly, the Phoenix-woman's face turned scarlet red and his father's eyes narrowed. "As I thought…" He had barely walked a couple of steps as his father had to address him again.

"Akihiro!"

This time, he couldn't keep his cool and was instantly boiling with anger. "My name…is Daken!" he barked at him and finally left with his team.

"Who was this, comrade?" Colossus asked since he couldn't remember that he had ever seen Logan being so shaken up.

"My son…," the feral muttered, lowering his head and heading into the opposite direction of where his boy was going.

That night, Logan didn't sleep. He was walking around the mansion and even though it was a habit of his, he wasn't as attentive as he usually was. What had happened to his boy that he was so consumed with hatred for him? Where had he been all those years? Who had taken care of him and turned him into this… No, if he was true to himself his boy had always been cold and reserved. Now he was just cold and loving it. And he was no fool. He knew it must have been his son who had murdered his old teachers and classmates throughout Japan. Was this his doing? Where had he failed? He had tried so hard to be a good father. Maybe he should have given him away from the beginning. Maybe this would have been better…

"Logan?"

He looked up and realized that he was back in his room, Jean waiting for him. "Hey…"

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

He nodded and sat down next to her, kept his silence before he told her everything about his boy, how beautiful he had been, how he had tried to raise him in a country that had despised children like him at that time, how blind he had been to not see that his son wasn't happy, that he was bullied and lonely, how he had believed that he had been murdered and dumped somewhere, how he had still kept on looking for him…

"He seems to hate you to a great deal…," Jean said and made him sigh.

"He must have been with someone. There's no way he could have made it on his own," he replied and shook his head. "Somethin' happened t'him…"

"I couldn't read his thoughts completely but…what I've seen…"

It was easy for him to read her eyes. "Pretty dark, huh?"

He had his answer when she nodded.

"I need t'know where he is. I need t'tell him the truth," he said after a while. "He must be with those goons in the city." Determined, he got up and grabbed his leather jacket.

"Be careful!" Jean told him, knowing that he needed to go alone.

So he left the mansion, stole Cyclops' bike and tracked down this Bullseye, knowing that his son would most likely cover up his scent. As he had reached the location, he hid the bike in an alley and went the rest of the way by foot. It was easy for him to sneak into the building, past those security goons that were busier reading the newest Playboy than actually looking at the screens. He stuck to the shadows until he had reached his destination. It was then that he wished he hadn't. As if it wasn't enough that his son was donning a mohawk and had a ridiculous large tribal tattoo that covered half of his chest and back, no, he had to actually kneel in front of that Bullseye freak and give that guy the time of his life. His son, his baby boy on his knees, giving a psycho head. He was about to storm in and cut that guy's dick off as this one pulled his boy roughly up and kissed him so hard that blood was drawn, just to throw him over the table next. Logan wanted to turn blind immediately…

"Lester dear, that was great," he heard his son cooing like some cheap slut and wanted to drop dead as he had to watch him acting all flamboyantly. "Didn't you think so, too?" Daken asked and while Logan thought he was still talking to that Bullseye person, he had to realize that he was staring right at him. "Logan?"

"THE FUCK?" Lester screeched and gathered his things quickly from the ground, punching Daken into the face next. "YOU FUCKING KNEW HE WAS THERE, YOU….BITCH!"

"Calm down, sweetness!" Daken said sourly, rubbing his cheek and got slowly dressed. "Daddy dearest obviously likes watching his baby boy getting fucked." He gave Logan a hateful glare. "Isn't that so, Logan? Do I remind you of…_her_? Did _she _enjoy it as much as I just did? Is that why you came here? You could have called, you know?" He grinned broadly, ignoring that Lester slammed the door shut behind him and enjoyed how Logan was so close to explode.

"Come with me!" his father snarled and made him chuckle.

"Why would I? I enjoy being here as you could just witness," Daken huffed but was surprised by a strong hand grabbing his wrist in an iron grip.

"It ain't a request, son!" Logan snarled and slammed his elbow against Daken's temple, who dropped unconsciously to the ground. Almost lovingly, he pulled the dead weight up. "I'm sorry, but ya don't leave me any other choice…"

As Daken came by again, he found himself restraint to a table in a sterile smelling room, staring straight back at Prof. X himself. Snarling, he tightened his muscles and fought against the restraints but they wouldn't budge. He could smell his father close-by, standing out of his sight and wanted to curse him to hell and back as the Professor spoke up.

"You are at my home, Akihiro. Your father brought you here."

"Oh really?" he snapped and gritted his teeth, picturing every possible death for this man and his condom-wearing group. "And my name is Daken!"

"No, it ain't!"

There he was, daddy-dearest at his finest hour, coming finally out of hiding and standing in a way that he could see him.

"Yer name's Akihiro. Always been!"

"In case you mean the name you gave me, yes. But not anymore!" Daken replied and wished the man would finally drop dead. "You're so pathetic!"

"I'm tryin' t'help ya!"

Oh please… "To _help _me? You think I need _help_?"

"Someone messed with yer head 'n Chuck here will set yer mind straight again," Logan grunted and was about to step back again, as Daken suddenly began to laugh.

"Right. Telling me the truth is messing with my mind in your eyes, hm? As I said,…you're pathetic!"

"What _truth_?"

Daken couldn't believe how utterly dumb his father was, dumb and a bad actor. Thank God, at least his mother seemed to have been intelligent or he would have jumped off the next cliff with this gene mix… "Don't think I'm dumb, you pathetic piece of shit!" he snarled and clenched his fists against the restraints again. "You murdered my mother, you never wanted me and she had to die because of it. You only took care of me because you were too much of a coward to get rid of me in the first place!" He would have laughed at the look on his father's face, if it weren't for angry tears burning in his eyes. He hated that man with every fiber of his body. He wanted to cut his head off and dance on the corpse. Maybe he could get Lester to join him…

"I didn't murder yer mother, she was shot by someone that I couldn't find until today! I even had t'cut ya outta her, otherwise ya would have died. Who told ya this shit?" Logan asked, furiously, angry with whoever made his son believe those lies and that obviously successfully.

"Do you want me to be grateful now?" Daken mocked him, heard his father merely huffing before he disappeared out of his sight again. The loud _bang_ he could hear made him guess that Logan had slammed his fist against the next wall. His eyes fell on Xavier, who had silently watched everything with those grandpa-knows-best-eyes of his. "You won't be able to endure it, old man!" he told him, determined to give him hell in his mind. He grinned at Xavier, who merely stared back.

"It can't be worse than your father's mind, Akihiro. And besides,…I won't be alone. Whoever did this to you set a trap for telepaths like me. A bomb that I won't allow my mind to freeze, so Jean will assist me," the professor spoke in his usual, unnerving calm voice and nodded at the redhead to his left that he was ready.

"My father's new bitch. And I thought you were oh so powerful…," Daken said, glaring at both of them, but feeling as if his mind was being torn apart in the next moment. He had to close his eyes and still saw blinding white light, his heart rapidly beating against its cage, every muscle and nerve on pure fire as the Professor was working his miracles on his mind. He hoped the man would drop dead, wished he could push his claws through the man's skull.

After what appeared to have been a decade to him, he found himself standing in the middle of a house. Japanese, definitely. The architecture was too unique. What bothered him was that there was no noise, no scent, no life, nothing.

"Can you hear me?"

He startled as he heard the Professor's voice suddenly next to him, extracted his claws and lashed out at the man, but his claws went right through him. "What…?"

"We're in your mind, Akihiro. Or better said, yours and your father's," Xavier nodded at Logan, who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, too.

Feeling trapped, Daken backed off.

"I must say, I've been wrong," Xavier said and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "I have never before in my life encountered a mind that has been shattered and set back together so many times. So much abuse…" He shook his head. "It's unbelievable what you've been through…"

"Oh, I'm so sad…," Daken spat and pointed at his dry eyes. "See? I'm on the verge of tears!" He looked around the room. "Why are we here?"

"So that you'll learn the truth!" the professor replied and all of a sudden Daken saw his mother lying on the ground, blood on her clothes, three holes in her chest and belly, a pool of blood gathering around her.

He made a shocked step back, heart pounding strongly in his chest. He watched how the door was torn open and his father arrived, breathless, eyes searching for whatever his senses must have told him back then first and coming to a halt next to Itsu in the next moment. He saw his father's eyes widening in shock, watched him dropping to his knees next to his wife's dead shell, calling out her name, trying to save her, but realizing that she was long gone. The panic was so visible on his face as he held her close, weeping, begging, realizing that he had lost her, as his eyes suddenly looked at her stomach…

Daken looked the other way as he heard Logan apologizing to his dead wife before he extracted a claw and began to cut. His fists were clenched, his hands shaking. This was a lie. It was all a lie. They were trying to trick him for sure. But why…couldn't he convince himself of this? Looking up, he was glaring at his father and Xavier, who were both staring back at him. "It's a lie! You're lying!" he barked at them in an uncontrollable fit of fury, looked to the side and watched how his past-father carefully tucked him into a blanket, still looking at him in shock but with so much love that he wanted to puke. Where had this love been as he had needed it? "You abandoned me, you son of a bitch! You left me alone in this pestilent world!"

"I know…," Logan nodded and lowered his gaze. "I believed I could protect ya, that they would accept ya as Bando Saburo 'n the villagers had accepted me." He looked back up, meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry… I should have known better. 'n I should have stopped tellin' myself that I was doin' right even though ya looked so unhappy…"

"Unhappy? You think I was just _unhappy_?" Daken snarled. "They gave me hell! As soon as I left the house I was in hell! And you didn't do anything about it."

"I know…"

"Stop telling me that you know when in fact you don't know anything! You don't know what it's like to be a mongrel, to be stared at, to not have a home!"

"Ya had a home!" his father dared to say and he wanted to punch him.

"You called that a home?" Daken mocked him, hurting him on purpose. "You don't have a home as a fucking bi-racial kid in Japan that is hated for his looks. I'm neither Japanese, nor Canadian, so where, according to you, is my _home_, father? _Where_ is it?" he asked, seething.

"It's wherever ya built it, son. Wherever ya want yer home t'be. It can be here, it can be somewhere else. Home is where ya feel good'n happy," Logan replied and tried to sound as neutral and calm as he could, even though he was loathing himself just now for being so ignorant. He looked at his boy in hope, this one was looking back but his eyes so cold and unreadable that he couldn't tell what Akihiro was thinking.

"It could be here. You'd be welcome here," Xavier spoke out what Logan couldn't and Daken broke eye contact. "I have seen what this man did to you. It's not love that he is giving you, Akihiro. Romulus is manipulating you and using you as a puppet!"

"Don't tell me what I know…," Daken muttered but spoke more to himself as anything else. He looked around, searching for a way out. "I want out of here…" He had barely said it as he was suddenly back on that table and staring at the Professor's face again, the only difference that he was no longer restraint. He guessed it was that Phoenix woman's doing. Not wasting any time, he got off the table and was out of the room, out of that mansion next, walked aimlessly through the city and had no idea where he was actually heading.

What he knew was that he was angry, angry at his fucking father, angry at that stupid Professor, angry at Romulus for lying to him, for using him, for making him do those…things. He had done and endured everything for this lying piece of shit. He was probably laughing behind his back and telling everyone what a stupid idiot Daken was… Stopping in front of the hotel, he looked up at the window behind which he knew the man was. He would get his revenge, he would bring this bastard down…

"You have been gone long," Romulus greeted him as he closed the door behind himself, carefully hiding his scent. "Have you been with that Lester again?"

"Yes," he lied and dropped his jacket carefully on the couch.

"He's not good for you. That man is insane," Romulus said and was watching him intently. "I don't have to get jealous, do I?"

_You better start digging your grave, you son of a bitch!_ Daken thought but smiled. "Oh, please, master. As if someone else was able to hold a candle to you."

Romulus smiled, that was good. Manipulating a calm Romulus was always easier than trying to cope with a furious one. "Good. Now be a good boy and come here," he ordered and patted the empty spot next to him.

Daken knew what the man expected from him and gave it to him, but not without laying out his plan…

Back at the mansion, Logan was still brooding days later. He had failed Itsu again, he should have protected him, should have prevented him from leaving again… But who was he kidding? His son was not a child anymore, he was a grown up, sick killer… He looked up when Jean came out of the bathroom and over to his bed, but he got distracted by a beeping noise next to him. Who in his right mind was sending him a text message? He took the phone and nearly dropped it.

"What's the matter?" Jean asked after she had adjusted her pillow and noticed the look on his face.

"I need t'go," he grunted and jumped out of the bed and back into his clothes.

"Where are you going?"

"Need t'do somethin'. I'll be back soon," he said and took a long object that was wrapped in something that looked like a black cloth from above the wardrobe.

"Be careful!" he heard her saying but was already out of the door and on his way towards the garage. He just prayed it wasn't a sick joke. A trap he could deal with, but not with… Shaking his head, he "borrowed" Scott's bike and headed towards his destination.

"So tell me, Daken," Romulus asked and looked at the ocean in front of them. "What am I waiting for?"

"Be patient, master. It's a surprise," Daken soothed him and gave his watch a brief look. If he was on time, he… Noticing the crouched figure that was hiding between two containers, he had to give him that. He was staying downwind. Obviously his father wasn't as dumb as Daken thought he was. "You once told me you knew my father, that you wanted revenge… You never told me why, master," he said and began walking closer towards the containers, never taking his eyes off the shadow lurking between them.

"It's about something that happened decades ago… You have more important things to focus on, Daken," Romulus scolded him and he was smart enough not to ask again.

"Of course, master," he nodded and stopped next to the container, noticing that his father was gone. "It's just…"

Romulus eyes began to gleam with impatience. "What?"

"I never thanked you enough for caring for me for all those years," Daken went on and gave him his most blinding smile. "But there's something else, master. Something that needs to be said. Now."

"Which is?" Romulus asked, completely oblivious to the approaching figure behind him.

Daken moved closer, reached out to cup his master cheek, made him feel secure and couldn't believe how much of a fool this master of manipulation was when it came to him. He always let him close, always let him touch him, even let him touch his throat. He was so blind when it came to what Romulus dubbed his masterpiece. "That you can't fool me anymore!" Daken snarled and lashed out, gutting his former master that he had followed blindly like a fool.

Romulus, confused at first, looked up at him. "What…?" but was awarded with a kick to the head next.

"You murdered her! You made me believe my father did it, you told me he never wanted me and that they had planned to give me away. That I was an accident!" he growled and lashed out again, leaving deep gushes in Romulus' face. He got even more furious as the man began to laugh at him.

"You are so pathetic, Daken!" the man coughed, uncaring that his face was bloody and that the red liquid ran down his face. "Did daddy tell you that he loves you and now you go running back to him? Did you forget that he never protected you? That _I _protected you? You kill me and you will have nothing!"

"He'll have me!" Logan grunted and stared down at him. "'n this time I make sure ya stay dead, ya son of a bitch!"

Looking to his right, Romulus grinned. "James…, as far as I remember your mother was the bitch, who opened her legs for me, wasn't she?" he asked and chuckled when the man in front of him pressed the end of a blade against his throat. Unimpressed by it, he got up until he was kneeling, his hand pressing against the wound Daken had left on his stomach. "Killing me, won't give you your son back. I made sure of it!"

"Why?" was all Logan could ask and shook his head, trying to figure out the reason why this demon of the past was here, still alive…

"Why?" Romulus asked, watching how Daken moved past him, obviously confused at the relationship the two men had. "Revenge, James. It's called revenge. In the end, you took her away from me, so I think it's just fair I did the same to you, don't you think?"

"She killed herself!" Logan growled.

"Because of you!" Romulus replied, eyes suddenly dark with hatred.

"Who is he?" Daken demanded to know, noticing the stunning similarities between both men's faces for the first time. He began to wonder how he could have NOT notice them in all those years.

"He's my father… My biological father," Logan told him without being able to take his eyes off the man. "He had an affair with my mother behind my…my real father's back."

"That sissy wasn't your father, son," Romulus cooed in faked pity. "I am. And killing me won't make that go away!" He noticed the look Daken was giving him all of a sudden and smirked. "There will be nothing in the world you can do to save him," he told Logan with a nod at Daken. He smirked when Daken began to understand the whole situation for real and stumbled towards the next best container for support. "He's broken and I made sure that nothing in this world can save him. Not Xavier, not Jean Grey, not Frost. Nothing! Sooner or later you will have to put him down. That is my last gift to you, son!" he said and was still smiling when Logan took a swing and the Masamura blade cut his head straight off.

Panting, Logan stood over the body and just stared at it for a while, his mind trying to process everything. Why hadn't he made sure that Thomas Logan had been really dead, why hadn't he? He lowered the blade, eyes looking for his son who was kneeling on the ground, the back towards him and breathing hard. After he had wrapped the blade back into the cloth he went over and put a hand to his son's back, but was shrugged off. "It's over!"

"It's not over…," Daken breathed, voice shaking. "It'll never be over again…"

"He's dead, so yeah, it's over right now. Yer free!" Logan tried to soothe him but was met with a desperate look.

"You…don't know what he did to me! What my own goddamn grandfather did to me!" Daken said and felt sick to the core all of a sudden, the emotions he felt were too much for him to cope with. "You don't know what he made me do…," he cried and lowered his head, but suddenly wanted to run as his stupid father hugged him tight.

"Whatever it is…it's over," Logan said once more and realized, now that Daken's guard was down, that his son still smelled the same even though he was not a baby anymore. He still wore that scent of fresh autumn sun, of leaves, of nature… Cupping his son's face, he gave him an almost desperate look. "Come home with me. Whatever it is…we can help you."

Looking back at him, Daken was torn. Torn between wanting to kill him and wanting to hug him and wanting to scream and kick and cry and… Pushing him away in the end, he just ran. Away from him, away from those confusing feelings, away from his God forsaken grandfather's body, away from everything… He wanted to get as far away from all of this as he could. At least he knew how to cope with being lonely.

* * *

><p><em>9 months later…<em>

It was night and he was staring at the full moon that was illuminating the grounds, coating everything in several shades of blue. In the past weeks, it had been rare that he could see the stars. Not taking his eyes off them, he watched them glittering above like he had always done back then at his window when he had been a boy. Back then, he had taken his astronomy book that _he _had given him and searched for the images in the sky, had always felt proud when he had found one. Now, he could see those images easily, it almost bored him. Still, he felt fascinated with them and the freedom they represented to him. In the end, he had stared up at them as _he_ had taken the last bit of his innocence away from him and even more after he had been left in the grass, the blood and stickiness cooling between his legs, his mind unable to process what had just happened… Why was he becoming sentimental all of a sudden? He looked aside as a lamp was switched on and two sleepy blue eyes looked at him. He was still fascinated with how blue they were…

"Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep…," he shrugged and closed the curtain again after looking at the moon for a last time.

"Come back to bed, Hiro…," his speedster yawned and buried his head back into his pillow again.

"Go back to sleep," Daken said and reached over to switch the lights off again after he had found his way back to the bed they were sharing for months by now.

"Mhm…," the man behind him mumbled and cuddled up to him, while he was still unable to sleep and was widely awake.

After the incident at the harbor he had travelled aimlessly around, had run into Cap and his Bucky-sidekick and clashed heads with them, had seduced this Johnny Storm kid just to piss Reed off and had told himself that he was perfectly fine on his own, that he could survive on his own. But boy had he been wrong. No matter what he had been doing, as soon as he had accomplished it, he got bored. He had no aim, had no plans, had never needed to plan his next step or his future because _he_ had always done it for him… He was like a helpless little child, even though he was a very smart helpless little child. So in the end, after three months of aimless wandering, he had found himself in front of Xavier's door. And to his biggest surprise, Xavier had stuck to his word: he was welcome, he was allowed to stay and after some weeks people even started talking to him, didn't point his fingers at him for being a mongrel, never judged him for his past or his incompetence to connect. They actually took their time and taught him.

It was also then that he met his…whatever she was. Sister? Aunt? Father with boobs? He couldn't tell. Alone the knowledge that she was his father's clone was weird to him, but the fact that she was actually weird herself didn't help their relationship either. Still the knowledge that she existed, that there was someone as fucked up as he was, someone that was as much of an outsider even among his own kind as he was… It helped somehow. Nevertheless, he still had trouble talking to Logan, to connect to him at all, to find a way to make this work. He had never told him about what Romulus had done to him, not before they had completely clashed heads and he hadn't known what else he could do besides throwing all the shit he'd been through at his father, who had been completely devastated afterwards and actually cried. His father, the mighty Wolverine had cried and hugged him and told him how sorry he was and that he could never make this up to him ever again and that he should have protected him and that it was all his fault anyway…

Daken sighed into the dark and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling now, the speedster still hugging his middle. He looked at the man that could be equally arrogant and stubborn like him, that never took his shit and always threw it straight back at him. Maybe that's why he was sticking to the man? Because he understood him? Because he had nearly the same fucked up past as he did, minus being fucked on a constant base by your own grandfather, minus being beaten and tortured, minus…

"Could you finally sleep, please?" Jean-Paul growled into his chest and sighed in complete annoyance. "I can hear you thinking…"

"You're not a telepath, dear, so no, you can't!"

"I can…," the man insisted, always needing to have the last word as he did. "You breathe differently when you're brooding…"

"Whatever you say, dear…," Daken mumbled and already dreaded Cyclops' announced Danger Room session in a few hours.

He might be better and smarter and prettier than them, this spandex-freaks often annoying the hell out of him, but at least, for the first time in his life, he felt as if he actually belonged and had a home. And he was determined to not let anyone else ever destroying this again…

**I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please leave a review! I wrote all day on this even though I have to study for my finals... Bad me. Let me know what you think and I hope this site allows you to see the two different kanji forms for Akihiro. Thanks for reading this! **


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